In the Dark
by Dagdoth Fliesh
Summary: "What have you cast on me?" Her head was dizzy with wine and illusion spell. She realized that there were no guards around, no one to call for help. "Cast?" he was nonchalant, manuvering her back against the railing. VincenteXOc Slight OcXOc.


Hello my pretties! Here is another nice Oblivion fanfic for you all. I really need to get off my obsession with this game. This story is a VincenteXOc with minor OcXOc. Enjoy (: I will be providing information at the bottom of the text with ( ) and numbers. Thanks. I hope you'll all be pleased that this story does _not_ follow the Dark Brotherhood quests.

Disclaimer: I don't own Oblivion, although I'd like to. Nor do I own the charming vampire Vincente.

In the Dark

Once upon a time, there lived a quaint Breton family in Cheydinhal. The father was a hardworking and well respected baker who stayed awake each night so the bread would be fresh every morning, the mother was loving and caring - - going out of her way to help anyone who asked, and together they had a daughter whose loveliness was the talk of many young men in the town. Her hair was as bright as the Gold Coast, her eyes as blue as the midnight sky, and her lips red as blushing berries. Her name was Amarante Fournier, (1) and she spent much of her time in the small but prosperous bakery or wandering the woods about County Cheydinhal.

That day she woke early as the robins, thinking it would be no different than the other sixteen years she had lived in the beautiful town, and smiled at the sun that lovingly caressed her fair skin with its bright rays. She rose and dressed in velvet blue, pulling her flaxen hair into a curl on her skull before pinning it place. Amarante greeted her parents with a morning kiss and ate a small breakfast before taking post at the shop front.

The tempting smells lured people far and wide into the small bakery, and they made a small profit for the day. Amarante was all smiles and politeness, visiting with the towns folk until the doors closed promptly at eight and she locked the door.

"You did a wonderful job," her father said as the sun was sinking below the horizon in a beautiful shade of red. He pressed a septim into her palm and wiped the heat of the oven from his brow. "Go, go, someone so young should spend the evening outside."

With a hug and another well placed kiss, Amarante let out a breathy laugh and snuck out the back door before her mother caught her and pulled her back. Amarante knew her father spoiled her, and was all the happier for it as she found her way down the street and to the tavern. However, this usual route also took her past the disturbing Abandoned House.

She looked at it as a shudder ran the length of her spine, thinking she had seen a shadow moving around behind the boarded windows. It felt as if someone were watching her intensely every time she past that place and she could take it no longer and skittered into a light run.

The streets flew past, and she was giddy with excitement after her brush with a confused guard at her frolicking. He shushed her along, smiling all the while until she was safe inside the bar.

"Amarante!" a Dunmer greeted, his red eyes bright as she sat near. "How are you today, my dear lady?"

"I'm well, and yourself, Sir Almerius?" she giggled back as the barmaid brought wine, paid for by her few septims. The tang of sweet red Tamika settled neatly into her body, warming her instantly.

He smiled over his goblet, "All the better, now that you're here."

Ah, he was such a flirt. Amarante and he conversed for a long while, for they were good friends. He was an adventurer who had made his home in Cheydinhal, wealthy enough from his adventuring that he could afford a home right on the main plaza, and was rumored to be joining the guard. He had an affinity for the sweet breads at her father's shop. It was a passing joke Amarante had heard that made her blush: the one sweet role in the shop Almerius desired most he could not have. The baker's daughter.

Amarante had been mortified the first time she'd overheard the joke from Almerius' friends. Now it sent a pleasant warmth through her when she gazed at the fine red tunic over his torso. And it made sense… because he visited nearly every day, sometimes just to talk.

"Too much to drink already?" Almerius laughed, "You're barely through a glass!"

"You know wine goes straight to my head!" she returned, running a finger over the crafted silver. "Where were you today, Almerius? You never came in the shop."

He leaned forwards a little, smoke black hair loose around his face. "I found an Aylied ruin north of Cheydinhal named Fanacas. So I went exploring."

"Oh," she mouthed, curious at the satisfied smile dancing across the mer's handsome face. "Did you find anything?"

"A beautiful antique! You should see how it glows, Amarante, it's nearly as beautiful as… " he scratched the slight stubble across his jaw, playful, "Well, as beautiful as you, my lovely maiden."

She flushed, and gathered those words close to her beating heart. "It mustn't be very beautiful then."

His smile lost some flare, "But it is, I would show you, if you'd like?"

"I'd love to see it."

He stood and offered his arm like a gentleman, causing her to giggle again as she took the offer and wound hers through his, wine in the other hand. The street was wide and they crossed two bridges before Almerius found the gate to his home, unlatching and pushing it open. It never failed to amaze Amarante how lavish his home was, the thick carpets under her feet and the beautiful tapestries upon the walls. He had a large collection of ingredients, and books, spilling from the shelves and cupboards in all possible selections.

He lead her past a personal desk, and up the stairs towards his bedroom, his large grey hand engulfing hers with its calloused palm. Her heart hammered spastically, wondering if there was indeed a _treasure_ here, and held onto his hand all the tighter. But when they entered, she spotted the beautiful lamp sitting on his desk, glowing with magicka.

"Oh!" Amarante gasped, watching the shimmer that ran across its core at the sound of her voice, "It's so pretty!"

"An antique collector from the Imperial City is going to visit me soon to appraise it," Almerius nearly purred, "I'm sure he'll pay me well for it, he better, for what I went through with those bloody vampires. Would you like anything to eat?" (2)

She gave a tentative nod of the head and he smiled softly, "Make yourself comfortable then, I'll grab glasses as well; wine goes well with cheese and bread."

She sat in a chair near the foot of his bed, entranced on the Aylied statue glowing rhythmically. When Almerius returned, he held a plate with a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheddar and two wine glasses, which he sat on the desk as he pulled another chair near. He took a moment to light the lone candle which glowed a brilliant orange and then motioned for the wine.

"You know," Amarante smiled slyly, "If I didn't know better, I would say this is fairly romantic."

He laughed outright, smiling warmly as he poured the red wine. "I guess it is, isn't it? I hope there are no qualms, my lady."

No, none at all. She only hoped she didn't drink too much. "Not unless you do, kindly sir."

The rest of the evening was filled in with pleasant and cheerful conversation. By the time Amarante set off to the Bakery, she was more than tipsy, but declared herself right enough in the head to make it home alone, much to Almerius' worriment.

As she wandered, this was decisively when her more than normal day turned upside down. She was nearing a bridge over the river when a man came walking in the opposite direction. He was Breton, with a fine dark shirt and even more a fine necklace around his throat. In the dark it was hard to make out the exact details of his face but he was intoxicatingly reserved and refined. But by all terms he was not at all reticent for he openly greeted her as she came into the shadow of the bridge.

"This is a lovely night is it not?"

"Indeed, sir," he seemed a cultured sort, so she could not deny him a moment of time. She smiled, "Masser and Secunda are very bright tonight." (3)

His lips curled faintly upwards, as if her good nature was contagious by default. Was it her imagination, or had he been a little further away before? And had his eyes not seemed so red, like the wolf on a hunt. "Their shine is not as bright as yours, fair lady."

She had the right amount of brains to think fear when the back of his hand came up to caress her face, but the emotion dissolved into magicka and warmth. There was the faint realization that as a Breton, the strength of the spell should have been diluted. But indeed it was an unnaturally powerful magicka that seemed to know no bounds of charm, and against her addled senses she managed to murmur a little.

"What have you cast on me?" Her head was dizzy with wine and illusion spell (4). She realized that there were no guards around, no one to call for help.

"Cast?" he was nonchalant, weaving this thin but strong fingers through hers, gathering her hands as he slowly maneuvered her back against the railing. "Ah, yes, that. Quietly now…" he whispered seductively into her ear, his breath ghosting before he sidled closer. Her body arched into his, craving the touch. His cool lips brushed down the nape of her neck as his arm wrapped around her waist. "I would be most displeased if someone heard our tryst."

And then his mouth laid a sweet kiss on her throat, his hand slithering up her back to cradle the back of her skull. A stabbing pain tore through her before the narcotic and blissful effect of the bite took hold. Every nerve, even down to her fingertips, was on fire. She wanted to hold him close, push him away, even as her arms went slack, wanted to run her hands into his hair.

He groaned softly, leaning her further and further over the side of the bridge. No sound escaped her, not even a whimper.

Oblivion was pulling her quickly away, a sweet embrace. She welcomed it, craved it. And when she finally fell over that edge into the dark water below, Amarante caught a glimpse of his shadowed face and knew the man for what he was. Then it was black, sweet and blissful, forever more.

….

Thanks everyone! I would much appreciate comments and critiques on this story! :D more coming soon!

(1) Fournier is a common French surname meaning 'Baker'

(2) One of the ten Aylied Statues. Guess who's coming to appraise it? And Fanacas is indeed infested with wild vampires. Every time I go there I contract a disease lololol.

(3) Masser and Secunda: the two moons of Mundus.

(4) Vampire's Seduction: I think lesser powers are impervious to natural resistances ?I hope?


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